


to remember;

by gracie_beard



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Artist John, M/M, Modern AU, based on a poem i wrote, i love these boys, it's absolutely fluffy, like toothrotting, lmao oops, theres also no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23874730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracie_beard/pseuds/gracie_beard
Summary: here's some fluffy Lams to brighten your day, based off a poem i wrote centered around nostalgia.domestic Lams has a special place in my heart <3
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	to remember;

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic, so if it's bad... oops 
> 
> this is based off of a poem i wrote, and this fic was written at four in the morning because i lack impulse control 
> 
> hope y'all enjoy :)

_they’re the things that nip at the back of your head, hidden throughout the nooks and crannies... simply overshadowed by all your new experiences, there sit your old memories lying in wait_

_thoughts and feelings tucked away and brushed aside for a rainy day-- good, bad, or ranging in between…  
life's experiences have toiled us all, greater and greater have they caused us to fall?_

_as little as these memories may be, they create our identity, binding to our thoughts and actions;  
their mark has been left in everything we do, every emotion we feel, everything we think_

_awoken with the senses, they rush back to us-- a particular sound, smell, or touch  
it’s the nostalgia intertwined with who we used to be, and who we will be._

***

Alexander sits curled on the couch, an old book in hand. It’s one he’s read before, but right now, he’s distractedly flipping through the pages. Where the book lacks to captivate his attention, John doesn't. He's standing in the corner of the living room, near the main window, the setting sun on his face, reflecting the lines caused by heavy concentration and focus. He’s been painting for hours now, and to Alex’s displeasure, he won’t allow him to see. 

So instead of rereading his book, he decides to admire John instead. He’s always thought John to be gorgeous, but there’s something about him when he’s in his own world that makes him exceptionally so.

John’s hair is pulled back into a messy bun, curls springing out around his ears and resting on his neck. His green, button up shirt is pushed to his forearms, paint coloring his hands and wrists carelessly, while he stands contemplative, chewing absentmindedly on a paintbrush. 

He takes a step back, fully immersing his upper body into the orange glow of the waning sunset. He crinkles his eyes against the sunlight in a way that makes his freckles jump, and mutters a few things under his breath in exasperation that Alex assumes are about the painting.

Alex releases a small laugh to himself about this, sits his book down, and bends over to put his unruly hair in a bun. John finally looks up at him, shooting him a wide grin.

“Don’t worry, Alex,” John says with a knowing smile, moving back towards the canvas with an intent look on his face, “I’m almost done, then we can order dinner if you want?” 

“Oh thank god, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me!” Alex says in a playful tone, sitting back up, and then placing his hand on his chest, scandalized.

John rolls his eyes, and gathers more paint on his brush, “Like I could ever forget you’re there, with your constant staring at me while I paint,” He turns his body towards Alex and laughs, “I could feel your eyes in the back of my head... You’re not slick, sweetheart. On top of the staring, I could almost hear your thoughts from all the way across the room,” He says with a laugh and a large smile adorning his features.

“Hmph, Funny.” Alex huffs, quirking his brow and standing to go turn the overhead lights on, so John could continue painting in the darkening room. “Are you almost done now? I’m ready to see it!”

“Patience is a virtue, Alexander… you would’ve thought you’d’ve learned it by now, but I suppose not.”

He snorts in reply and moves back to the couch to sit down, “Yeah, it’s one we both know I don’t possess, so I don’t know why you’re always testing it. Quite honestly, it’s bold of you to assume I had patience in the first place.”

John laughs goodnaturedly and shakes his head, “Well, you know what they say about assuming… it makes an ass out of you and me.” Listening to Alex’s affronted laugh, he offers one last swipe to the canvas and steps back to survey it in completion. 

“Is it done, is it done, is it done?” Alexander questions rapidly, shooting off the couch and onto his feet in a second, bouncing with every word.

John puts his hands up in defense, then moves to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, inadvertently getting paint on his face in the process. “Yeah, I believe it’s done. I may want to add changes later, but nothing that should dramatically impact the overall look of it, you know?”

Alex bounds over to John's side, and looks at the painting, “Oh John,” he whispers, his breath catching in his throat. He puts his head into John’s side, overcome with emotion.

“Do you like it?” John asks, kissing the top of Alex’s head, and squeezing Alex into his side.

Alex looks up with watery eyes, squeezing John back, “Do I like it? John, it’s beautiful, I love it and I love you…Thank you.”

“I love you too, Alex. It’s just what you deserve. l know you had said that you wanted to get the picture of you and your mother restored, but couldn't find the time, plus the world being in shambles certainly doesn't help matters any. I was hoping that painting it would be alright…” he trails off, moving away to look at Alex’s face and wipe the stray tear that had fallen down to his flushed cheeks. 

“This is better than what any restoration place could do with that little photograph, trust me when I tell you that.”

Alex looks back at the painting with a smile. It brings back a wave of nostalgia… him and his mother on the beach back in the Carribean, the fading sunlight leaves the sky purple and orange, with the colors reflecting on the waves that crash onto the shore. His mother in a white sundress, face alight with laughter as she chases a young, grinning Alex along the coast. He could almost taste the salty air and feel the sand beneath his feet as he looked at John’s artwork.

“You know,” John began, grabbing Alex’s hand, and guiding him to the couch to sit down, “when I was younger, Martha and I used to go and collect seashells off of the coast.”

Alex interrupts, “Aw, I love Marty!”

John smiles and tucks a piece of hair behind Alex’s ear, “She loves you too, Alex. Although, it’s hard not to love you,” he says, giving Alex an exaggerated wink and a kissy face.

“Get back to your story, Laurens.” And then a softer, "I love you too."

“Well,” he begins, tapping his hand on the arm of the couch and looking at Alex, “one time I told her about the Lettered Olive Snail, who would live in the lettered olive shells scattered along the beach. The animal who lives in the shell is a carnivorous snail who captures small crabs, clams, the like, and will then drag them under the sand and eat them. When I told her this, I never specified how big they really were, and so she believed that they were this huge bloodthirsty snail that wanted to eat her.” John said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck, and messing with the curls there.

“And of course, as the older brother I’m sure you DEFINITELY didn’t encourage THAT fear, now did you?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow, and wiping some dried paint off of John’s face.

“Of course not!” John says in mock indignation and feels his cheeks heat up under Alex’s disbelieving gaze.

“Well…” he begins, “Maybe just a little.”

Alex shakes his head, nonplussed. “Mhmm, just as I thought. What a rude, little thing you must’ve been, making fun of your sister,” He trails off, smiling and admiring John while he pouts and glares at Alex.

“Now c’mon John, are you ready to eat? Because I am starving,” He pauses for a second, thinking back at the painting John created, “What about seafood for dinner? I can get it delivered.”

Standing up and stretching, John replies, "that sounds good to me, I’m going to hop in the shower and get all this paint off while you call it in, and if there’s time after you can join?” He turns and looks back at Alex hopefully, a smirk playing on his lips.

Throwing his head back in laughter, Alex laughs, then turns towards him to place a kiss on his cheek, “Yeah, we’ll see, loverboy, leave the door unlocked.”


End file.
